


The Proverbial Straw

by Claranon



Category: Dragon Quest, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Canon Divergent in that Hendrik would rather die than ever change his appearance, F/M, Fluff, Hendrik Suffers 2020, Traumatic Hair Cutting, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claranon/pseuds/Claranon
Summary: An unfortunate accident during battle leaves Hendrik and Jade with a dismaying addition to their list of trials—or rather, a dismayingabsence.
Relationships: Graig | Hendrik/Marutina | Jade
Comments: 17
Kudos: 23





	The Proverbial Straw

**Author's Note:**

> This was both written for _and_ directly inspired by Christy, who drew such a [fabulous rendition](https://randoshipssketches.tumblr.com/post/613545242057211904/short-hair) of Hendrik and Jade with short hair that I was compelled to slam this into a Google doc in the space of eight hours. Was it worth it? Probably not. Did I do it anyway because it was a heretofore un-thought-of way to make Hendrik suffer? Basically yeah.
> 
> Enjoy!

The fateful event happened, as they nearly always do, in an entirely unpredictable manner.

Hendrik gritted his teeth and fell back into a defensive stance as he parried the blade of the beast before him. He fervently wished that he had _not_ chosen this day to give trial to the new greatsword that the Luminary had forged him, feeling the absence of his shield most keenly against such a well-armed foe.

All around him were ringing clashes of battle and bright bursts of magic as his companions dealt with their own threats. The horknight watchmen had come upon the party by surprise in the ruins surrounding Dundrasil town; though far less dangerous than many of Calasmos’s minions, they still comprised a serious challenge in so large a grouping as this.

Before Hendrik could counterattack, an enormous fireball engulfed the monster in flames and it staggered back with an unholy shriek. He spared only a moment to nod at Veronica across the field before he was charging at the horknight, sword held high as he unleashed an Unbridled Blade. With one last wail, both grublin and hornet fell to the ground and disappeared in a puff of smoke. The knight swept his hair out of his eyes and sucked in a harsh lungful of air to steady himself.

There was a flash of movement at his side. “Hendrik! Behind you!” Princess Jade snapped as she leapt past him. He wheeled just in time to see her deliver a fearsome kick to a beast at his unguarded flank, her long hair whipping around herself with her spinning attack.

“My thanks!” he called out to his princess, mentally berating himself for his inattention. He had long been disabused of any notion of protectiveness over his future queen—notably by way of her openly, directly, and _graphically_ threatening him if he so much as worried over a stubbed royal toe—but still he felt the disgrace of her having been forced to come to _his_ aid. Hendrik set his jaw and once more pushed his sweat-damp hair aside before joining her in the assault.

They traded blows with the horknight, moving in sync as they surrounded it in a pincer formation. An unlucky slash rent a cut on the princess’s leg and Hendrik healed it with a flash. He was vaguely aware of the lessening sounds of battle as their companions dispatched their own opponents, but kept his attention trained on his and the princess’s.

The monster had begun to sag when it suddenly roared with rage and a burst of energy consumed both mount and rider. It fired off a Multithrust with its spear at the exact moment as Princess Jade rushed forward to deal the killing blow.

“Princess!” Hendrik shouted in warning, but he could see that she had already committed to her offensive. He scrambled forward to guard her, cursing anew his lack of shield, and several things happened in lightning-quick succession:

The grublin’s spear blurred into the air in front of Hendrik and his princess, grazing each of their necks by a hair’s breadth before clanging onto the knight’s raised sword;

the princess’s foot struck directly into the beast’s chest, sending it crashing to the ground with one last agonized scream before it dissolved and faded;

and the air was filled with long, wispy tendrils of two curiously familiar colours, buffeting to and fro in the breeze.

Hendrik at first could not comprehend what, exactly, he was seeing. He stared with a frown at the strands as they fluttered down to the grassy field. He opened his mouth to query the princess of _her_ opinion on their origin, when he finally turned his attention toward her and his voice vanished as thoroughly as the beast they had just slain.

Princess Jade was staring up at him wide-eyed, one hand reflexively raised to where her usual ponytail was gathered upon her scalp. But instead of the bright red ribbon and wealth of dark hair that Hendrik had grown so accustomed to, he saw only empty air. The princess’s shining locks fell jaggedly to the nape of her neck and no farther, and it was only _then_ that he understood the meaning of the long, dark wisps surrounding them.

Before he could marshall his thoughts to come up with any form of reaction to this, she spoke in a strangled voice.

“Hendrik,” the princess whispered. “Our...our _hair_.”

The inclusiveness of her address confounded him for one interminable moment; then comprehension began to seep into him, mounting horror pulsing with every thump of his heart. Slowly, unable to tear his eyes from his princess’s, Hendrik raised one shaking hand to his head.

His gloved fingers met not the usual comfort of hair groomed to exactly his preferred length as they brushed across his upper back. Nor did they meet it at his shoulders, to the style he had worn in his more youthful days. Instead he was forced to go higher, even so high as equal with his ears before he felt the uneven fringe of hair shorn with merciless brutality.

_Two_ curiously familiar colours: one the raven hue of the princess, and the other a light purple that he gazed upon every morning when he looked into his shaving mirror.

Battle now over, the rest of the party silently gathered around their companions, staring at the both of them in turn. It was Sylvando that eventually broke the trembling hush of the scene; even in his stupefied daze, Hendrik knew with utmost certainty that his friend could speak no words that would not compel his brother knight to wish him throttled with all possible haste.

“Well, darlings,” Sylvando drawled as he hoisted his whip over his shoulder, “you could’ve _told_ us you wanted to get matching haircuts! Next time I’ll take you to my friend in Gallopolis—he’s _much_ better with split ends than these nasty grublins, blegh!”

* * *

Hendrik’s mood—always teetering on the precipice of irritability at the best of times—had not noticeably improved by sundown. He stared unseeingly into the fire as his friends chattered around him, gloved fists clenching and unclenching in turn.

“Honestly, I quite envy you both,” Serena said earnestly, the light of the flames dancing across her face. “I’ve always wondered what I’d look like with shorter hair, but I just can’t quite work up the courage to try it out.”

Beside her, Veronica tossed her head and her braids bounced with the movement. “Well, _I’m_ certainly never cutting mine. But at least if Serena _does_ stop being such a coward about it, I’d have a pretty good idea what I’d look like anyway.”

Erik snorted and gave the bubbling stew on the fire another stir. “Only if you ever manage to fix that height problem of yours,” he said with a wave of his spoon. “Right now? Everyone’d probably just think you were a boy in a dress.”

The thief then yelped and scrambled back as Veronica began drawing in her magic with a scowl, a ball of fire forming between her small hands. “It was just a joke, geez!”

“Like _anyone_ should take advice from someone whose idea of hair care is running his dirty _fingers_ through it all the time,” she sniffed.

“It keeps it out of my eyes, okay? What _else_ is hair supposed to do?”

From across the fire, Sylvando huffed and looked up from his painstaking concentration on Princess Jade’s dark locks. “Gosh, can’t you two _ever_ keep it down?” he scolded. “One little oopsie with these scissors and I’ll have to start all over again!”

The princess let out a resigned sigh where she sat before him, her chin bowed as she patiently endured the fussy man’s trimming. “I’d prefer to avoid that if at all possible, as I’m afraid I haven’t much more hair _to_ lose.”

“Och, it’ll grow back soon enough,” Lord Robert reassured her. “Dinnae forget the time ye gave _yerself_ yer own haircut when ye were all of fourteen years auld.”

He shook his head and leaned in toward his grandson with a conspiratorial air. “The lass’s shrieks when she realized her folly could’ve been heard from ten miles away, I reckon.”

The young man covered a smile while the princess glared daggers at the former king. She was about to retort when Sylvando clucked his tongue and firmly pushed her head back down, and she grudgingly relented.

Abruptly, without even being able to pinpoint the exact catalyst, Hendrik reached his limit of his companions’ ceaseless banter. He cherished their fellowship and the close bonds that tied them together, but their teasing camaraderie was wholly incompatible with the current blackness of heart that he refused to classify as grief. He stood and buckled on his greatsword before he began to stalk away from the camp into the darkness beyond.

“Where are you going, honey?” Sylvando called after him. “As soon as I’m done with Jade here, it’s your turn!”

“I wish to stretch my legs,” Hendrik gritted out without looking back. “I shall return shortly.”

The nearby river babbled a quiet accompaniment to the crickets as Hendrik made his way through the fields of Dundrasil. Though deeply unsettled of mind, he did not for a second relax his constant vigilance as he went, always wary of the telltale gleaming of green eyes that characterized the monsters that now plagued their fair world. A cool breeze rustled the ends of his hair and he shivered at the unfamiliar feel of it against his ears and neck.

After a time, he found himself at the stone bridge leading into old Dundrasil town. A moment’s deliberation and then he continued on to the middle and halted at a section of crumbled balustrade. He unbuckled his sword and settled himself down upon the railing, swinging his legs out over the river far below. His eyes automatically went up to the stars at first; but upon beholding the ugly red stain of Calasmos in the sky, he dropped his gaze to the inky water instead as his thoughts roiled within him.

Hendrik did not know if his stay there comprised minutes or an hour. He eventually roused at the sound of soft footsteps approaching—far more graceful than any foe’s—and looked up.

He was jolted by the strangeness of Princess Jade’s silhouette absent the ponytail flowing down from the top of her head. With a pang, he recalled that it was that very feature which sparked the fateful recognition in him on a storm-lashed night not far from here; his heart twisted anew in his chest.

A far cry from the pale shock of earlier, the princess’s face was calm when she reached his position and sat down beside him on the bridge. He saw her about to move her own legs over the edge when she realized the precipitousness of the drop and shook her head with a shudder. She settled more safely against one of the balustrade rails instead and turned toward him.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked without preamble. One of her hands reached up to fluff out her hair, and Hendrik pushed away his inner turmoil enough to take a closer look.

Even to his inexperienced eye, he could see that Sylvando had done a fine job of evening out the jagged ends and styling it into a more aesthetically pleasing whole. Her dark bangs now constituted the longest section of her hair, the rest falling in close-cropped waves to just above her chin. It accented the loveliness of her heart-shaped face in a way that had Hendrik’s chest squeezing in on itself once more, though not in an entirely disagreeable manner.

“It is...a very great change,” he said truthfully. Her mouth turned downward and he hastened to add: “But it becomes you well. I do not think anyone would realize its misfortunate origin.”

“Thank you, Hendrik,” she replied, smiling now. Her fingers went again to her hair and he wondered if she would perchance adopt Erik’s habit of running them through it. 

Princess Jade then sighed and the smile faltered. She turned her head to the water and stared out at it. “I suppose I’ll get used to it in time. I just wish there were some way I could wear Mother’s ribbon in it still. I...rather liked having something of hers with me.”

She left unspoken the thought that Hendrik knew must be at the forefront of her mind. The late queen had resembled her daughter strongly, and he could readily bring to mind the memory of her long, dark hair, often styled in elaborate arrangements. The young princess had always insisted on growing hers out, hoping to one day reach the same length in honour of her beloved mother.

Before Hendrik could compose a properly compassionate reply to this, the princess seemed to shake herself. She faced him again and he blinked as her lips curved upwards.

“But as for you, Sir Knight,” she said with a teasing lilt in her voice, “I hadn’t any idea you were so attached to your _own_ hair. I should’ve known that a man with such a carefully manicured beard _must_ be overcome with hopeless vanity.”

Princess Jade reached out and tweaked his bearded chin with her fingers, startling Hendrik even further; he unconsciously clutched at the stone railing behind him to prevent any further incidents in a day already so calamitous.

“Princess!” he protested, flushing at her huff of laughter as she drew back. He coughed into his hand and looked away. “That is not—you must not think that I—it is not mere _vanity_ that is the cause of my present—"

“Oh, I was only joking,” she cut in. His gaze rose to hers once more and he saw a seriousness come over her face. The princess tilted her head, dark eyes catching the light of the stars above. “I know this isn’t about the hair. What’s really going on, Hendrik?”

He swallowed hard around the objections that roared in his head at the thought of confiding in a princess he had vowed to serve all the days of his life. It was not his place—not his _right_ —to lay his own doubts and uncertainties before her; he should instead be a pillar of strength, a support for her to always rely upon when the world came crashing down around them. He had served her father in such a manner for well on two decades, and took pride in the resolve with which he performed his stern charge.

But looking at her now, those disconcertingly short locks framing her face, it was almost...easier, in a way, to see her differently. Not as his future queen, but as a woman; a comrade; even, daresay, a _friend_.

“I...have taken great comfort in the familiarity of expectation and duty put upon me,” Hendrik began haltingly before he could think the better of it. “For sixteen years, my life has not always been agreeable, but it was predictable—understandable. Then...then all at once, everything I have known has changed, and I cannot help but feel I am not equal to its challenges.”

The princess had turned her head once more to the water as he spoke; she listened quietly without making any attempt to reply, and he could not have been more grateful to her for it.

“These changes have, of course, not _all_ been unpleasant—most notably the recovery of your father and your own return, Princess.” She smiled slightly at that and the sight of it somehow bolstered him. “But others..."

Hendrik sighed. “Others have shaken the core of who I thought I was—whom I thought I could reply upon—and I...I do not know what will remain when all this has come to its conclusion...or what I shall even recognize of myself.”

He lapsed into silence then, fighting against the shame and humiliation that crept up inside of him at this flagrantly uncharacteristic admission of his own insecurities. He stared out at the river with held breath as he waited for her reply.

Once more, the princess’s boundless ability to throw him off-balance reasserted itself. “And _then_ your hair got cut off,” she finished.

A startled laugh burst from his lips despite himself. His eyes flicked back to hers and he saw an amused affection within them; more restrained than he remembered, but all the more reassuring for it. “Exactly so, Your Highness. It was, I believe, the proverbial straw that broke the sabcrecat’s back. If a man cannot even rely upon his own grooming preferences...”

“I can understand that,” she agreed. She paused then, and her gaze seemed to soften in a way that provoked a peculiar racing of his heart.

“Regardless of hair length, I think you’ve always been exactly who you’ve needed to be, Hendrik,” she told him quietly. “You were back when I was a child, and you are now. It’s...actually one of the things I like best about you.”

Looking at her in that moment, his chest suddenly so tight he could scarcely draw breath, Hendrik made the abrupt decision that she was unequivocally, undeniably, and _unfathomably_ more beautiful like this, gentle waves of hair framing her face and highlighting her features into greater delicacy. So caught up was he in this realization that he nearly _did_ topple off the bridge when she reached out to once more tug at his beard.

“Alongside that vain streak you so stubbornly refuse to admit you have,” she added teasingly. “Really, how many hours do you spend trimming this a week?”

“Perhaps...perhaps some _fraction_ of my disquiet can be laid at vanity’s doorstep,” he breathlessly acknowledged. Her face was inches from his own, mouth curved with humour and eyes shining.

His attention was arrested by the sight of her biting her lower lip before she seemed to come to a decision. The air went completely out of him as she reached up and brushed her fingers into his hair, tugging and arranging the strands as she pleased. One of her nails scraped against his scalp and he could barely resist a shiver.

“Don’t worry, Sir Hendrik,” Princess Jade murmured, words ghosting across his cheek. “I think you’ll find you’re just as handsome this way as the other. You’ll _still_ have to beat all the swooning ladies off with a stick.”

Hendrik tried with utmost effort to swallow around a throat gone as dry as the Hotto wasteland. “That...would go against at least several precepts of the Knight’s Pledge,” he finally choked out. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the revelation that the princess found him _handsome_ bounced around with wondering disbelief.

She rolled her eyes at that, but the enchanting smile remained. “Of course it would. How silly of me.”

Then she pulled away from him and the world seemed to come back into focus—crickets, rivers, stars, and all. Hendrik took in a gasping breath and shook his head, feeling dazedly as though he had spent the past several minutes underwater.

“Come on,” Princess Jade said brusquely, rising from her crouch and brushing off her skirt. “We’ve both spent long enough moping about our hair. It’s time to go back to camp and let Sylvando work his magic on yours.”

This metaphorical dash of cold water brought Hendrik fully back to his senses. He winced as he stood alongside her, _more_ than aware of just how much delighted mockery was in his imminent future. “Might I not fling myself off this bridge instead, Princess?”

“Not unless your new battle strategy is to drive the monsters to uncontrollable _laughter_.” She frowned and crossed her arms, one hand going to her chin as her demeanour turned pensive. “I’ll have to make some adjustments to my own, come to think of it. I’ve always relied on my hair as a considerable distraction.”

“You have ample distractions remaining still, Princess Jade,” Hendrik said without thinking, his mind focused on the deadly grace and agility with which she fought.

It was not until she wheeled toward him with wide eyes that he realized the scandalous implications of his remark; the horror that filled him was nearly as exhaustive as that brought on by their misfortunate haircuts.

“On a day with such trials as this, I must _beg_ of you to strike my words from your memory,” he pleaded before she could speak, his hands held up in hopeless defence.

Hendrik could see the mirth on her face as she mercifully nodded. “All right,” she agreed in a voice marked by suppressed laughter. “But _only_ for today.”

He sagged beside her in relief; after a thorough clearing of his throat, he bent down to pick up his sword and secured it onto his belt, affirming with the princess that he was prepared to leave. They walked down the bridge together, glittering stars lighting their way forward.

The princess paused when they reached the grassy path and the knight looked down at her inquiringly. One of her hands lifted to her hair and brushed over the shorn edges.

“He would have laughed at us, wouldn’t he?” she asked quietly. She turned to Hendrik, her face marked by a sorrow that twisted his heart. “Perhaps not as he was near the end, but...at one point, he would have laughed. He was always so serious that I cherished the sound of his laughter. I truly did.”

Hendrik did not need to ask about whom she spoke. He struggled for some time to respond, his mind filled with such conflicting thoughts that speech felt quite beyond him.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I think...that this would have amused him greatly.”

Princess Jade studied him for a time before she nodded. “Well, that’s something, I suppose.”

There was a gentle brush at his gloved hand; he found himself holding his breath as her fingers hooked into his own and squeezed once before letting go.

The princess tucked her hair behind her ears and jerked her chin toward the pathway. “Shall we?”

Together, they strode out into the darkness toward the cheerful light of the campfire in the distance, silently beckoning them home.

* * *

It took some weeks and much scowling into his shaving mirror, but Hendrik eventually acclimated to his new haircut. Their quest remained of the utmost urgency, after all, and it did not beseem him to concern himself with such trifling matters as his physical appearance during these momentous times.

He was taken by surprise when Serena came up to him one night after a particularly grueling effort at Sir Drustan’s trials. Most of the party had pled weariness and taken early to their beds, but the priestess seemed none the worse for wear as she approached the stump where he sat reading by the fire.

“I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time, Hendrik,” she asked with that quiet sincerity he had come to regard so fondly.

“Of course,” he replied, slipping a piece of paper into his book and closing it. “What is it?”

“I thought you might like to have this.” She reached out to give him something and he automatically accepted it. Looking down at his hand, he blinked in confusion.

“It’s the Ring of Changes,” Serena explained. “I wasn’t sure why he asked for it in the first place with so many other important wishes to make, but he seemed very keen on my trying out that haircut I kept talking about.”

She frowned in thought. “Almost keener than that magazine you and Rab were so excited about. Did it contain that important historical record he spoke of, by the way?”

Hendrik coughed into his fist. “Ah, yes, it—it was very...illuminating. But if the Luminary wished _you_ to have this ring, then why—”

Serena shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m not as fond of shorter hair as I’d expected. I was going to put it back in the pack, but then Ja—” She stopped herself short and gave him a bright smile. “But then _I_ thought you could use it to return your hair to the way it used to be. I felt so badly at how upset you were by that horknight accident!”

The knight stared down at the ring, his mind racing. The temptation to slip it on immediately was near overwhelming; he was just about to move his hand when a snippet of memory floated to the surface, in a voice more familiar to him than almost any other.

— _just as handsome this way as the other_ —

He took in a deep breath and closed his fingers around the trinket. “I thank you for your consideration,” he told Serena as he gave it back to her, “but I have no need of this. Perhaps one of the others can make better use of it.”

“If you’re certain,” she said, a crease between her brows. Then her face lit up with a new idea. “Oh, I wonder if Rab would like to try having hair again!”

“It surely could not hurt to ask,” Hendrik managed to reply.

When they broke camp the next morning and prepared to return to Trial Isle, Princess Jade approached Hendrik with a puzzled frown on her face. In contrast to his own appearance, the adjustment to _her_ new look had been markedly easier. The only issue he had found was that his breath was inconveniently caught in his chest all the more often as a result of her enhanced loveliness—most especially with the maddeningly captivating new habit she had adopted of twirling one dark lock around her finger during idle moments.

“I thought for certain you’d have accepted the ring,” she told him, showing no hint of self-consciousness at her attempted deception.

“I was tempted to,” he admitted, hand absently going up to rub at the back of his neck. “But in the end, I decided against it.”

She tilted her head as she looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “Why?”

Hendrik hesitated for a long moment. He glanced around the camp at his companions as they talked and jested and worked diligently at their tasks. He noted the evidence of their labours in both field and dungeon, the rewards they had fought so hard together to earn. He saw tufts of pollen and blossom petals drifting along the breeze with all their hints of spring.

And finally, his gaze went down to his princess: almost unrecognizable now from the girl he had known, but at the same time a woman who had come to fulfill every promise of determination and loyalty as he had ever hoped for. To have known her like this suddenly filled him with a gratitude that could never be expressed in words.

“I have come to realize that even a man such as myself is more capable of change than I once may have assumed,” he answered her at last.

The princess searched his face for a time before she slowly nodded.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, her lips curving into a heart-stopping smile. Hendrik returned it, tentatively at first, and then with more confidence when he saw how well her answering look of satisfaction became her.

“Come on, you two!” Erik called from the edge of the camp. “We gotta get going!”

Princess Jade picked up her pack and hoisted it over her shoulder. “Well, it’s time to leave, Sir Hendrik. Have you got your stick handy to fend off all the amorous Watchers, or would you like to borrow one of my spears?”

“I shall be guided by your judgement, Princess,” he replied, securing his sword to his belt and gesturing for her to lead the way.

Perhaps the future would not— _could_ not—ever be fully predicted; but to the Hendrik that strode off that day with noble companions at his side and the wind rustling his short hair, it was somehow all the more meaningful for it.


End file.
